Healed
by BlueRain1
Summary: -COMPLETED- Just a fluff story. HHr, nice little piece. R&R One-shot.


Disclaimer: I don't own anything, NOTHING! All belongs to the mind of, god bless her little soul, J.K. Rowling. I only own the storyline, if there's even one.

**~Healed~**

  
  
"Stay_ still_," she said, still treating the wound on his forehead, kneeled with her legs between his own, on the common room couch. He had tripped on his way back from the Quidditch Pitch, and now had a scratch on his forehead, just inches above his scar. She placed a damp handkerchief on his forehead and he squirmed, it stung.  
  
"What _is_ that?" he asked leaning further against the arm of the couch.  
  
"Well, now that you're trapped," she started "It's safe to say, it's healing potion, it stings and it will help you heal that little scratch. Honestly, if you want to be a _baby_ about it."  
  
"I'm _not_ a baby about it," he whined and looked up at her, she raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Then let me finish what I'm doing," she ordered and leaned forward to his forehead. He grunted something that sounded very much like '_Okay'. "Good" she sniffed and continued treating his forehead. Her shoulders were at his eye level, he could smell the faint smell of cinnamon that emerged from her. She raised herself up, probably to see the scratch better, the healing potion still stung, he winced. Now her chest was at his eye level, he could see it rising and falling each time she breathed. His eyes wandered to her very small waist, to her kneeled legs between his. She had grown to be a very pretty girl, her hair had become tamed, though still wavy, her body had gone through the obvious changes of adolescence, and her legs were now longer and more elegant.  
  
He suddenly felt a lurch in his stomach, and felt air go out of his lungs, he could not explain what was happening to him, since he didn't feel sick, quite the opposite, even. She now blew the stinging wound and he felt a shiver go throughout him.  
  
"Are you okay? Are you cold?" she asked looking concerned and sitting on top of her legs. He nodded.  
  
"I'm alright," he said not being able to control himself to stare at her. Her lips were moving, but he heard no word from them. He watched, amazed, at how her tongue brushed against them from time to time, making it seem so graced and delicate.  
  
"...effects of wounds such as those—" she paused "Harry? Are you alright? You're staring," she said furrowing her brow.  
  
"Erm… yeah, of course I'm alright. I was just thinking about something," he said still quite dazed.  
  
"Right." Hermione nodded briefly "And do you mind telling me what? It was weird seeing that look on your face. I haven't seen that look since you last saw that Chang girl last week," she studied him. He didn't answer. "Oh! Of course, silly me," she laughed slightly "Sorry. You must really like that girl, well, she's pretty and—"  
  
"Shh," he said and put a finger to her mouth.  
  
This immediately sent chills throughout his body; he removed his finger almost immediately. She stared at him narrow eyed. A minute ago, he had touched her lips; they were warm and soft. Her expression was unreadable, her head was tilted to a side, and one of her eyebrows rose. Her kneeled legs were still between his, and she was sitting on top of them.  
  
"How would you react," he said out of the blue "if I were to push you back onto the couch?"  
  
She raised her eyebrows. "And why would you do that, exactly?" she asked staring suspiciously at him.  
  
"Because your legs are too close to me, and I don't know about you, but I sure would be uncomfortable if they were any closer."  
  
A wave of comprehension soared through her face and she flushed slightly. "Oh! Sorry, really. I didn't notice." She scooted over to the other end of the couch and leaned against the back. "Well," she said "It will keep stinging for a bit and then it will go away. Tomorrow you won't have it."  
  
"Thank you," he said and smiled. She smiled back and closed her eyes, relaxing against the couch in her sitting position. He glanced at her. A small urge to just go there and kiss her was growing by the second. But not any friendly kiss, he wanted to kiss her like no best friend would, like no friend would, he wanted to kiss her in a way that she would be left breathless. His insides twisted. He realized that he had to at least try, even if she hated him afterwards.  
  
He stood up and carefully made his way to the side of the couch where she was. She fluttered her eyes open. "What are you doing, Harry?" she asked lazily.  
  
"I want to kiss you," he said surprising even himself. She choked.  
  
"You want to what?"  
  
"You heard me," he said, fumbling with his fingers rather nervously "To kiss you."  
  
"No," she said "It would be wrong; it would totally ruin our friendship. Honestly, Harry, that bump affected you in ways more than one. Just rest. By tomorrow you'll forget about this rubbish."  
  
"Rubbish?" he asked, she nodded avoiding his gaze. "Right" he stood up and turned away.  
  
She looked down at her lap, her head bowed slightly. He glanced at her, and at her bowed form. Then he put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her against the back of the couch, and pressed his lips to her. He could feel her straining against him, and her hands against his chest pushing him back, however he did not let go. _

But something must've happened to her; maybe he did the right thing, because she relaxed against his grip, her hands now resting on his chest, and she started kissing him back, closing her eyes. He cupped her face with his hands and pressed his tongue against her lower lip, begging for entrance; wanting, aching, desiring to taste her properly. Her lips parted under his mouth and their tongues clashed against one another, their lips now moving to the same rhythm, kissing with a passion that was almost bruising. 

She now put her arms around his neck, pulling him on top of her, his hands on her sides. The grip on his neck was so tight, it was almost choking, but he didn't care. Her tongue was surprisingly stroking his as hard as his was stroking hers. She was sweet, her taste drove him mad. A mix of honey, cinnamon, and vanilla. They finally broke apart, panting and searching for air. He smiled at her, but she looked utterly worried. He caressed her cheek.  
  
"Don't worry, it won't ruin our friendship. And it isn't the effects of the bump. I am completely healed"  
  
And he kissed her again.  
  
**A/N=** Just popped into my mind, hope you guys enjoyed it! ;)


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